


Womb

by Jenwryn



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, Episode Related, Episode: s05e07 Emily, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:11:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dana rolls her hips in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Womb

**Author's Note:**

> So I got bored during a work-related training session. Erm.
> 
> This stems from my thoughts related to Episode 7 of Season 5 ('Emily'). Consider it an alternate universe tag, or the like. [For the record, I'm only on my first watch-through of The X-Files, and _haven't seen anything_ beyond episode 13 of that same season.]

Dana rolls her hips in the dark. Closes her eyes. Opens them. It’s like a womb here; like a carpet bag of heat and hope. He pulls her closer to him, his hands so wide and warm at her back, at her sides, at her breast – he must touch her all over, to reassure himself as well as her. His face is the barest of outlines in the night, a play of distant light upon planes and dips she knows so well that she sees them beneath the curves of her own skin; 'neath the cant of her own mouth against male chest and beating heart. Womb, room, tomb; she mightn’t have needed him before, but she needs him now. Needs him here, inside of her, melting the pain and the shock of that empty box. Needs him, the breath of him, the taste. Teeth to his collarbone, she pushes it all from her to him, shares it, gives and gasps, shivers and takes; takes his dream and his thoughts beneath the weight of her hair, beneath her soul where they’ve sat four years or more already. She knits him into her, here and now, knots him under and over with white-knuckled cries and pressing knees. _Mulder_ , she says, because Fox belongs to his family but Mulder is his own, is her own, is their own. _Mulder_ , and it’s like her womb, like her room, like her tomb, like a birth reborn in death. _Mulder_ , and he breathes life into her lashes; hope into her veins. _Mulder_ ; and his hands hold her steady, steady, steady.


End file.
